hinarising

I was born barefoot

And learned to walk on rocks,

And hot pavement,

Stubbed my toes a lot,

And packed them with red soil

To heal in soft earth.

Tough Samoan feet

That felt hot in shoes

And didn’t fit the narrow, prissy,

Slender girl look.

“Wide!”

I said with pride,

“With rubber tips” that could

Scuffle and kick

Like the best of boys,

My feet took a beating.

But in summer,

They found the shapes of trees

With toes that gripped

The coconut, papaya, mango, guava trunks,

I was the mastermind of gathering fruit

With bulging shirt in teeth

Climbing over fences,

Pedaling bikes,

A solid, fast get-away.

I was told,

“Stay outside, your feet are dirty”

And I did.

Who wants lacy white socks that itch,

Or ugly pointed shoes that pinch?

I was born barefoot,

And was proud of it.

March 28, 2015